


Fuck off, Pennywise

by ClaryFangirl



Category: Derry Girls (TV), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, Georgie Denbrough Lives, M/M, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Season/Series 02, Probably ooc, Spoilers, Stanley Uris Lives, haven't gotten around to reading the book yet, it but its set in derry NI
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-11-09 04:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20847182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaryFangirl/pseuds/ClaryFangirl
Summary: It's been 27 years. Mike waited, patiently. He prepared himself for the worst, keeping the numbers belonging to his friends in case Pennywise returns. Nothing.In a small, troubled, little corner of Northern Ireland, a wee girl is walking home from a friend's house. She is stopped by a clown with an American accent asking for directions.The Catholics say she was killed by the Prods. The Prods reckon the Catholics killed her.





	1. Prologue sorta thing

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, I changed the years a bit so it would fit with Derry Girls, sorry

Molly O'Connor had had fun. She'd had a few drinks, enough to feel a bit of a buzz, but not enough for her parents to notice. Not like they cared anyway. Derry was the same, so she had no problems navigating the dark streets, almost entirely devoid of people. Almost. On the corner of the street ahead of her stood a clown. or so she thought, it was hard to see features in the dim light.  
"Hiya, you lost?" She asked as she approached him. Sweet suffering Jesus, that was terrifying. The clown had a white face with red lines from his mouth to both his eyebrows, curving at the cheek. He wore an obnoxiously hideous costume that had to be a joke.  
"I am, can you help me?"  
"Sure, where are ye headed?"  
"Home,"  
"Look, I know you've probably had enough to drink, you should get home safely and so should I," She said, turning around. Molly started walking away, but the clown had a tight grip of her arm.

She refused to look at him, but she knew something had changed. You know when you wake up, and there's just something off? She felt like that. Struggling to get out of his grip, she started cursing, mixing English and Gaelic.  
"_Lig dom dul dom, tá tú ag_ creepy fucker," She gasped. A light hit her, and she couldn't move. She wanted to, but she was paralysed. Molly didn't realise when the clown dragged her down the sewer, dragging the cover back to its original place.

Mike Hanlon liked being prepared. Back when he was a kid, he was always unprepared. So now, when he had more control over his life, he was always thinking of the worst situation possible and making sure he wasn't caught off-guard if something happened.

He knew Pennywise would return. 27 years after the first time they defeated him. He'd walked around, preparing for an attack at any moment. He'd asked his colleagues to keep their eyes peeled for news of disappearing kids, especially in Derry.

So why hadn't anything happened?

The question was eating him up day, like Prometheus. Until he finally got a missing kid, a possible sign of him being back.

"Cathy, please tell me it's good news,"  
"Well, for you it might be good news, it's a horrible thing for any sane person, Mike," She said on the other end. He just knew she was twirling a cigarette between her fingers.  
"Cathy, the news?"  
"Right. This girl in Derry, her name was Molly, disappeared last week, and no one had found anything yet. Sound like a lead to you?"  
"Molly, what was her last name?"  
"O'Connor, I knew her family when I lived there, great people," She sighed, obviously reminiscing.  
"Back when you lived there? Cathy, you live there now,"  
"Not here, Derry. Derry in Ireland, remember? I moved away to raise my son, but then I got the job here so I had to leave him. I went on a trip there recently, I thought I told you about t?"  
"I meant here in Maine," Mike sighed, rubbing his nose bridge.  
"They said something about a clown as well," Cathy said, hanging up.

Mike stared at the receiver for a few seconds before he realised. 

Pennywise was back.

The doorbell rang through the Quinn household. Based on the length and impatience of it, Erin knew it was Michelle.   
"Fuck-a-doodle-doo," She said once she opened the door, James standing behind her, staring at the ground.  
"What's the story now?"  
"Y'know Molly O'Connor, upper sixth, she had the most incredible hair. The one everyone says she bucked a guy to bay her bill at the pub? Dead,"  
"Michelle, that's old news," Erin said as they entered the kitchen.  
"No, see they found her body up by Giant's Causeway. And obviously, the wee Prods are saying that the people living here all killed her and dumped her body off the coast to blame them," Michelle ranted, waving her hands wildly.  
"Good morning, Michelle,"  
"Mornin, Mrs Quinn, ye got any pudding left? We ran out yesterday and ma forgot to get more," Erin's mother didn't reply, but she grabbed a plate and filled it generously with breakfast.

Richie Tozier wasn't excellent when it came to his memory. He remembered his jokes, and that was about the extent of it. He didn't remember anything before he turned 21, only that he lived in an awful town, especially for someone like him. So when an unfamiliar number called him, claiming to be an old friend from when they were teenagers and that he needed his help, Richie laughed. He knew that some high school buddy might show up one day, asking him to join some fucking pyramid scheme, but there was a limit to what he would expect.  
And flying to Ireland because an old pal told him to, not really something on the list.  
"Listen, bud, I'm not flying to some rat hole in Ireland just because some dude is telling me to,"  
"Oh my god, Richie. I know you remember, somewhere in that fucked up mind of yours, you remember Derry. You remember Stan, Eddie, Ben, Beverly, Bill, Georgie and me. If you don't believe me, at least give me a chance. I'll be at your show tonight, talk to me after it, okay?" The line went dead.

Five minutes later, he was pushed onto the stage, a microphone in his hand, and the lights blinding him. The tour was an improv one, so all he had to do was be himself.  
"So, I graduated high school about 20 years ago, right. And I didn't go to any reunions, because childhood trauma. And I got a call today, it's this guy that I knew when I was a kid, apparently. I expected it to be like a pyramid scheme for a brand called like NutriBoom or something. I'm wrong, the guy says he wants to hook up, and I don't know what to say. So I agree, and I think I might've made a mistake because, for all I know, it could be some pedo with a foot fetish," Richie says. 

The crowd is a good one. They laugh at his jokes, stay silent at the right time so he can deliver a punchline. he twists everything he remembers from his life into a cute anecdote, for some reason.

He's chugging the last of his beer when someone approaches him.  
"Good show, trashmouth," The man says.  
"Trashmouth, is that like an insult or something because I'm pretty sure I've heard that before," Richie says before burping obnoxiously. The man rubs his nose bridge, clearly a habit.  
"Jesus fucking christ, Rich. I'm Mike, Mike Hanlon. The guy you called a pedo with a foot fetish,"  
"Oh yeah, I remember. So you said something about me going to Ireland,"


	2. Jesus can't help you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I've only been to Derry once, when I was six, I remember virtually nothing, and my only references are google maps so I'm 100% sure it's inaccurate. So if there's anyone who lives in Derry, I'm sorry.

Eddie wasn't known for making bad life decisions. It was his job to make good ones. So why on earth was he boarding a plane to Buttfuck, Nowhere in Ireland? Just because some guy on the phone who knew all of his medical issues said so? yep, seems legit.

A baby was shrieking somewhere around the gate. he couldn't position where, but he couldn't ignore it. It was a seven-hour flight, did he have to deal with screaming babies all the way? Oh God, he put his face in his hands, massaging his temples gently.  
Eddie tried doing the things he did whenever he was nervous. He bounced his leg rapidly, he picked at his nails, he fiddled with the scar on his arm from when he broke it as a kid. The bone had shown and the skin hadn't healed properly. He even hummed Crocodile Rock by Elton John to calm himself down.

The flight was uneventful, it was nothing like Die Hard 2. He'd barely noticed the hours pass by. He'd been busy trying to grasp at straws of memories of his childhood. He remembered a kid, they called him something along the lines of garbage. Why did they do that? Imagine being called garbage by your friends. He remembered one guy who liked birds, another with a stutter. He knew there were more, but he couldn't remember anything more. 

Gotta love childhood trauma.

The main thing he remembered was fear. sometimes in the screaming, going to you if you breathe in my direction fear. But he also remembered being afraid but hiding it well. There was something else he wanted to hide. And he did. He hid it so well, he himself couldn't find it. Not even Myra, who seemed to know him inside out knew whatever he'd hid.

"Hello, this is your captain speaking. We'll be landing in Belfast shortly. Please take time to collect your items and make sure you don't forget anything on the plane. have a nice day,"

"As you all know, Molly O'Connor disappeared a few weeks ago. The other day, they found what they believe to be her body. So, let us have a moment of silence," Sister Michael said. Erin's head was practically spinning with ideas. Oh, she could write so many poems about this. A classmate who died in the Troubles. Now, that was gold material.

Obviously, she was sad for the poor girl's family, and she didn't intend to show anyone her writing until at least six months after her death. Out of respect for the family, of course. Not because she needed to practice rhymes and shit like that.  
"Now, you're about to go on summer break, and all I can say is thank God. I've waited for so long for some peace and quiet. You haunt my dreams. Try not to get killed, because I, quite frankly, can't deal with any more wakes this year,"

"Alright, ye know the fella who owns the old sticker shop down at the shopping centre? Clare, his sister, about our age, she's into girls as well. D'ya want me to set you up?" Michelle said, leaning her arms on the shoulders of James and Orla.  
"Michelle, last time you set me up with someone, it was someone who was an exact copy of Dolores O'Riordan. She wasn't my type,"  
"How was I supposed to know she was approaching 40? It's not like I went up and asked her name," Michelle put her hands up in surrender. Clare scoffed.  
"But you asked if she liked girls?"  
"She had that haircut. The one that K. D Lang has, she's the only lesbian I know, apart from you,"  
"Yeah, I don't really want a girlfriend right now," Clare said.

They constantly surprised Clare with how casual they were with her sexuality. They were Catholics and it was Northern Ireland. Lesbians existed, but they barely had any rights. As far as she knew, they were barely legal, so when Orla had dragged them all to a tiny stand selling rainbow and unicorn pins and purchased enough for all of them (Clare got two since she was the gay one), she was so overcome with joy, she'd barely been able to speak for days. Such small acts went a long way, and she still smiled when she saw the pins on her collar.

They passed the bus station and they were stopped by a woman with short, red hair, and fancy clothes.  
"Hi, sorry to bother you," She had an American accent. That was odd. "I'm looking for the Maldron Hotel, do you know where it is?"  
"Aye, ye take bus 5, the stop is called Maldron Hotel, it drops ye off right outside," Michelle pointed at the stop. The woman thanked them and pulled her large suitcases to the stop.  
"What a fucking weirdo," Michelle said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm sorry for this taking long and the short chapter. I've been super busy with Work Experience planning, and I can't guarantee better chapters or updating schedules for a while, and I'm sorry about that.
> 
> However, I will gladly write at any possible time, so eventually, it will piece itself together into a full chapter.  
Have a nice day/evening/night :)


End file.
